


Come And Get Me

by Davechicken



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Early Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:49:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29940591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: It is the morning after one of many nights before, and Dorian... can't leave.
Relationships: Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Come And Get Me

The light pours in behind him, haloing his perfect skin and refracting through the very occasionally errant strand of hair. Dorian knows that perfection slightly muddled - like a good cocktail - can be even better than the sterility of precision itself. A smudge around lips or eyes, a jarring line away from symmetry; these points of friction that point to a fierce, untamed energy that threatens to burst out. The hint of the wild, like the way the world shimmers at the edge of the Veil.

This is, at least, what he tells himself when he’s anything awry, askance, or ajar. He can make anything work.

Dorian leans back against the cool wall, aware in every moment of his body. The subtle, but pleasant stretch from before that leaves his ass hungry for more. The soft crinkle of a slightly-too-cheap carpet under his toes. (Must remember not to get too much rug burn, he thinks. At least nowhere visible.) He cleaned after the act (acts, or act? When do you draw the line?) last night. His skin lightly scented from the soaps and ointments. Faintly slick, so grabbing hold enough would never be too easy. 

He is easy-going, but not easy. There is a difference. He chooses, and what he normally chooses is to leave. 

Yet, he doesn’t quite seem able to leave this one. 

Of course there’s been repeat offences in the past. Especially in Tevinter, you took what you could get. The pool wasn’t as wide as he’d have liked, and if someone was able to show him a good time (with sufficient guidance), then why not? There’d even been breakfast sometimes. 

But this… this is different. 

Possibly it’s being stuck in the same place all the time, with the same (but limited) pool of people? Or is it that he’s just… 

This is not the first time. Or the second. Or the third.

The first time, he woke for the call of nature and hastily threw his clothes on and left. Dorian is sure the Iron Bull watched him go, but said nothing until the next day. In. _Public_ , for Andraste’s sake! Dorian still hasn’t quite forgiven him for that, but also…

It was nice. In a way. First being openly admired, then visibly pursued, and… Bull didn’t stop just because he’d bounced on the man’s dick several incredibly satisfying times. He’d _invited him back_ , but it was more than just inviting him back, it was the fact he would admit to the whole Inquisition that they’d been physically intimate, and that it was good, and he wanted more. 

Oddly, that had… helped. 

Dorian has never been shy about what he wants, with whom, and how. But he’s never heard it from someone else’s mouth before, and that had been a shock to the system. It took the control away from him, but it also made him realise he was, on some level, still ashamed. Still buying into that old Tevene lie of ‘this is wrong’. It was okay when he said it, because he could control when, and how, and why. But hearing it casually from someone else’s lips…

Which, knowing that sly old Qunari, was probably the point of his statements. Making him face it, making him face himself.

And then - even worse! Then Dorian had been confronted with what do you do when the other party is ready, willing, able, and entirely not fazed. When there’s nothing to stop you going back again, and again, and… No one screamed at them to stop. In fact, they all seemed approving, in their own ways. No one looked at him any differently, except perhaps Varric, who was eyeing up new source material. 

Dorian should have been fine with it. Should have been happy he could walk in and out of Bull’s unlocked door whenever the need arose. Should have… not felt weirdly hopeful and annoyed in equal measure. Strangely sentimental about things they did, in a ‘I don’t want others knowing because it was something to me’ sort of a way. 

But here he is. Sitting, haloed, on the floor. Scrubbed and scented, with only the barest musk of last night lingering. Perhaps a drop or two inside that he didn’t work out, yet. Pleasantly used, completely safe, and watching the bulk of a man stirring on the bed. 

Watching. Watching the sheets tangle around a muscular calf. Toes poking out from the other side. The swell stirring between his thighs as consciousness returns, that causes an answering rush through his own cock. Broad, broad chest. Strong, very definitely masculine, and up to that throat, jaw, mouth… fuck.

Fuck, but he’s beautiful in all ways Dorian can and can’t explain. Dialled up beyond what would be considered ‘beautiful’ by most in Tevinter. Raw, brutal strength and testosterone. Thick limbs, scar tissue, healed parts and skin the colour of living metal. To say nothing of the horns. (When did he get a kink for horns? Was that always there? Or was it solely attached to this specimen, whose body he can’t stop drinking in like it’s more vital than wine, and more addictive than lyrium?)

He’s just… stunning. Imperfect in ways Dorian strives to be perfect, but so very alive despite it all. Those fingers - again, damaged - so skilled at wielding whatever weapon they picked up, or playing over his body to draw new heights of arousal from him. Stroked around an earlobe, or over his throat. Pinching, twisting… pushing inside of him until he’s sure he will explode, only to prepare him for something even more intense and challenging and _so damn good_... Delicate, and yet ready to destroy.

Dorian finds a weird stab of jealousy at who else those fingers have caressed, to get so good. To know when to push, when to stop. He’s reaping the benefits now, but… 

He’s never been jealous before. Not of someone he’s had, but only of people he couldn’t. Of happy couples whose interests aligned enough to be acceptable. (Admittedly, not many altus, if any at all. But he’d seen love from the outside, read about it… he knew it was, for some, ‘real’ enough.) Of people who could have been - should have been - his. Torn away by rules and regulations and responsibilities. 

But he’d never had someone of his own to be jealous about. 

‘His own’. It feels weird to think it, but it stirs something strange in his belly and his dick brushes higher against his stomach. 

He wants this one. This one seems to want him. For how long, he’s not sure, but certainly for now. Every time Bull steers the conversation that way, he brushes it off. It’s easier to not talk about it than to ruin it, or be disappointed. If he can just… not ever mention it again… magically have everything, without ever…

Bull stirs more obviously, the sheets sliding down as he moves to prop himself up on the bed. Dorian’s arms arch over his own head, pushing his chest that little bit further. It’s not a gesture of surrender, as he pillows his head on his wrists. It isn’t. He’s confident. He’s not afraid (much).

The Qunari tilts his head down, a wry smile on his lips. “What’s wrong? Was I taking up too much room?”

“You always do,” Dorian replies, wondering if his arms are some attempt to make horns of his own. But don’t they like the ones who have none? Is that why Bull is attracted to him? He could have anyone who was his way inclined, if he wanted. A larger pool than his own, if his size and species didn’t put anyone off.

(The size shouldn’t. Because: damn. His ass clenches beneath him in memory and an open letter asking for more.)

“Are you planning on coming back to bed?”

“I haven’t decided, yet.” Because. Damnit. Just because he’s sitting, stark-bollock naked on the man’s floor, watching him sleep? Does not mean he shouldn’t be hard to get. If Bull really, really wants this - wants him - he can damn well work for it.

“I see.” More soft movements, as Bull lets all the sheets fall back, and runs his fingers under his shaft, encouraging it up to full mast, showing off. “You can stay there, if you like. I don’t mind if you’re tired and just want to watch…”

The challenge isn’t lost on him, but he’s not that simple. Dorian simply lifts a brow. “Oh, you know I’m not tired. I was up before you, remember?” 

Of course Bull’s eye steals down to Dorian’s lap. Two can play at the innuendo game. 

Another reason to… like him. He’s just as filthy-smart and eager. Just as dirty minded and… fuck, but he makes Dorian smile. Sometimes, even, laugh. That tension knots in his gut again, wanting something… something more. 

“Perhaps you need me to catch up, then?” Bull lets one hand start playing over his own chest, following touches Dorian knows so well. 

He can feel them, right now. Can feel how Bull would stroke, scratch, worship. Every swirl of a fingertip feels like it’s right there on his own, spread-wide chest. It’s a magic of its very own, and it makes Dorian’s heart race faster.

(It’s so, so bad. He can’t focus. Can’t think. Sex is good, but when it’s with Bull, it echoes all through the day. Makes his nipples chafe under silk, makes his lips ache from biting. Makes him want, and want, and want.)

“I’d like to see you try. You are so terribly behind in every which way.”

“I regularly am behind you, yes.” Bull won’t fail to stoop. “You don’t seem to mind.”

“Well, I should be charitable.”

He’s ripping Bull to shreds, or he… should be. But instead, this is playful. Enjoyable. And Bull’s other hand moves to fondle at his sac, making the shaft above wave invitingly. Long, and satisfyingly thick… Dorian loves to mount it, ride it, and feel his whole internal world shift to accommodate it. 

It’s only peripheral in his awareness, though, as his main focus is on that singular eye staring back at him. The movement translates into ripples of his shoulders, and the soft sounds of flesh on flesh. He’s stroking, now, and Dorian… oh, fuck. Dorian wants to move over. To wrap his lips around the head and feel himself pushed down. Gagged. Used. Abused. 

He wants to lick over pecs, bite at thighs, scratch around the edges of healed injuries. He wants to suck over the tip of his horns. Wants to gulp over his throat. Breathe in the scent of his pits. Wants to revel in all that body has to offer, and then feel himself enjoyed in turn.

Fingers in his hair, tugging at his scalp. Kisses behind an ear. Hands big enough to lift him. Arms surrounding him. A hand on his cock, a dick so deep in his ass that he can nearly taste it. Rough, brutal fucking. Pounding that leaves muscles shaking afterwards. Physicality so strong he’s overwhelmed by it, drowned by it…

...and those other touches. 

Those other ones.

Held down by sweet, silk kisses around his wrists. Bared and exposed, as lips and the tips of fingers trail everywhere. Pressure in his ass as his dick is swallowed whole. Fingers finding that sweet spot and lips milking him dry. The lazy fucks of late night, or early morning. Slow, slow, dragging out into forever. His body overwrought, and something snapping inside as the kisses turn sweet and the fingers in his hair turn sweeter still. 

Bull’s knees part, and there’s a sudden flicker of emotion on his face that Dorian can’t believe is faked. Bull may be Hissrad, may be a ‘Keeper of Illusions’, but when has he ever lied to Dorian? If he has, it’s been too good to be perceived.

What would he get from lying? Dorian is disgraced. The Qun can’t possibly use him. His information is old, his contacts burned or radicalised to the point of being fringe. He’s no asset, not to the Qunari. 

To the Inquisition, he hopes. To the Magisterium? Maybe one day, eventually. But not right now. 

Bull could just as easily get information and satisfaction from him without this… thread. Without this aching hunger that makes his face tighten. It’s a dangerous gambit, if it is one. It threatens to break his focus, to shatter the illusion. You can only suspend your disbelief so long.

Why? Why me? 

Do you mean it?

He’s beautiful, he knows. Intelligent. Skilled. He’s a damned impressive specimen of human mage masculinity. Anyone should be proud to have him on their arm.

But that doubt that it’s sincere… it cloys in his throat, and he swallows at it as Bull strokes himself in front of him.

“Do… you want me to stop?” Bull asks, suddenly.

Stop? Stop what? Masturbating? Dorian is enjoying it, even if it’s leaving something infinitely sad behind his eyes. He shakes his head.

“I don’t want to stop.” Bull adds more intensity to that statement than it warrants, a growl that’s almost possessive and far too vulnerable for a morning wank. 

“I don’t want you to, either,” Dorian manages. 

“I want you.”

Three words. Just three words, and Dorian’s head is swimming and his heart is pounding. Do you mean it? Do you really mean it? How long will you mean it? Won’t I drive you away?

He can’t bring himself to move, not right off. But it’s not cool, calm, collected Dorian haloed by the incoming sunlight. He’s frozen, pinned down, fighting a tremor in his jaw.

“I want you,” Bull says again, hand moving to clutch the base of his shaft and no more. “Kadan.”

Bull has used that word before. Not often, because Dorian laughed, or brushed it off, or pretended it didn’t happen. But now… he forces their eyes to meet. 

He knows the things they both aren’t saying. Knows so, so well.

“Then come and get me,” Dorian replies. The other word - the one that pushes at his mouth and makes him say stupid, hurtful things instead - drags over the back of his throat like he’s swallowed knives. 

“Every time.”

Bull moves, and Dorian doesn’t run. Each time it gets harder to do either: run, or stay. His heart flutters as he’s scooped up, and he pushes his face into the crook of the taller man’s neck. 

Maybe it’s real. Maybe he does want him.

Maybe it will be okay not to run. And if he does… maybe someone will - for once - run after him.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by some lovely art by [Just Harrie](https://linktr.ee/Just.Harrie) who is also on [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/just.harrie/) and Patreon.


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